


Quondamque Futurus

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Character Death, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd been lovers once, in every sense of the word, as they would be again someday. (Avalon!fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quondamque Futurus

Merlin sat vigil for three days and three nights. Not moving, not thinking, and barely breathing, he sat by the bed and closed his eyes until he knew that all had gone as foretold.

On the third morning, he unfolded his body from the hard, wooden chair and watched the sun rise for the last time from the window of Arthur's bedchamber. Slowly and carefully he went through the tasks he'd learned a lifetime ago: change and smooth the bed linens, close the curtains around the bed and open the ones at the windows, fill the pitcher by the bed with water, and set bread, cheese, and wine next to it for the first meal of the day.

This morning, he ate by himself, just enough to remind his body that he needed to eat and to remind himself that he'd gone through the ritual of taking bread and water, of breaking his fast.

The sun was high in the sky when Merlin finished his meal. He stood up once more and brushed the crumbs from his hands. It was the first and only meal he had ever eaten alone in these rooms and, even through he did it for ritual's sake, it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong – too quiet, too still, and too empty.

He was reminded of the day Uther Pendragon had passed away and how he'd waited in the rooms he'd always remember as Gaius's, though even on that day it had been years since Gaius had kept them. Camelot held its breath then as it did now, but today nobody would come to summon Merlin and to tell him to join the king in his chambers. He knew, one day, that duty would be his once more, but not now, not here, not today.

Today, Merlin walked out of those chambers and closed the door quietly behind him. The rooms would stay untouched until he returned to them and only then, when he was summoned back, would he both open and close those same curtains, pour out the water, and break his fast once more in there.

A collection of knights and servants stood outside the rooms, their faces pale with grief and anxiety, and their hushed voices grew completely silent at a look from Merlin.

"Let the people mourn him, but only for a short time. Send his papers and belongings to Guinevere and then hold games in his honor. It's what he wished for."

+

Once Merlin walked away from Arthur's rooms, he kept walking, out of the castle and then outside of its walls, until he reached the water's edge. He waited all afternoon and stepped into the boat when it arrived.

The fog didn't burn off once the sun rose and the path both to and from the island remained obscured throughout the whole journey. Only when the boat stopped did Merlin know he'd arrived and that he could go safely ashore, even if he couldn't see where his feet touched the ground.

As soon at they did, the scent of clean, damp air filled his lungs, as sweet as freshly picked apples and as cool as well-water drunk at the end of the first truly warm day of spring. Another set of footsteps approached and with each one the mist cleared a bit more, until Merlin could see a young man coming toward him, dressed only in a loose tunic and trousers, his soft boots making no noise on the wet sand.

"Arthur? _Arthur! _" Merlin looked down at his hands, smoother and stronger than they'd been in years, and knew that expectation, desire, and memory had merged to color his perception of both himself and of Arthur.

"You idiot!"

Yes. That was his Arthur, exactly as he was when Merlin first met him, gold hair and bright eyes. The Arthur he'd missed so much during those last few years. "I came as soon as I –"

He cuffed Merlin over the ear. "You at least could have told me I would end up on a boat. And then on some godforsaken island with the likes of Morgana and Galahad."

Perhaps he hadn't missed that part quite so much. "You're on the island of the blessed and you're complaining about it? What did you expect?"

"Well. _You. _" Arthur's fingers combed through Merlin's hair and gripped to tug him closer. "You could've told me."

"I… I tried. You slipped away from me so quickly."

They were silent. Then, suddenly, in the space of a breath, they were kissing and touching, and it felt like years and lives and worlds had passed since they were last together like this.

It was just like Merlin remembered, though. Or, it would be, if he had time to gather up any memories aside from the ones that were inherent in his senses, that made sure he knew exactly how to react when Arthur touched him or when their bodies pressed up against each other.

There was magic in that kind of memory. There had be to, because before he was aware of what had happened, Merlin was naked and tangled up in Arthur, on a bed, in a house, in the soft afternoon sunlight that he didn't even realize was there.

It didn't matter. Not at all, not a single bit, because Arthur was here, he was wonderfully alive and everything had worked out, and fate or destiny or magic had brought Merlin back to him one more time. He wasn't a king or a legend, or anything but Arthur, whose body fit perfectly against Merlin's and whose skin still had the same salty-warm taste against his tongue. For all the awkwardness that the body of his youth seemed to have, it always knew how to move against Arthur's body, how to swell with eager arousal at the caress of fingers or lips against his erection, how to tense or relax enough, how to arch against his lover.

Arthur had been hard before they got their clothes off and there was nothing tender and nothing gentle about their coming together. There was love, though, and the need and desire between them was just as strong as any sort of magic. Stronger, maybe, for there nothing like the pressure and the pleasure of having Arthur inside him, pressing harder and closer until it felt like he knew Merlin from the inside out.

How could he not? How could Merlin not know him in the same way? They'd given up on secrets between the two of them long ago and in this place beyond life and death, there weren't any more secrets left to hide.

+

Arthur pressed a kiss to his shoulder before getting up to pour a cup of wine that he brought back to bed. After a few sips, he looked at Merlin. "You're not going to stay here, are you?"

Merlin shook his head.

"But you'll come back to me, won't you?"

"I think, when we see each other next, you'll find me."

For the first time since Merlin had come to Avalon, Arthur looked scared. "But… what if I can't? I don't know how. What if I don't know you?"

"You will."

"But I don't know how." He reached up and pressed his hand to the side of Merlin's face, touched the curve of his lips and nose. "I'm not like you."

"You will. I promise you." Arthur's fingers kept moving over his face and Merlin leaned in to kiss them. "Have you ever not known how to find me?"

After a few thoughtful moments, Arthur shook his head. He kept touching Merlin, tracing lines over his face and neck, following the curve of Merlin's collarbone and shoulder with his fingertips, and skimming his palm down over his chest and stomach. "How long have you been stronger and smarter than me?"

"What, haven't I always been?"

Arthur laughed and the sound rang through all of Avalon, through the forests and fields, until the quiet evening air felt as if it vibrated with life and exhilaration. He tumbled Merlin back against the pillows and this time used his mouth to map Merlin's body. And Merlin knew, inexorably, that he would always remember Arthur like this, that he'd always remember both of them like this, young and happy and with what felt like an endless evening all to themselves.

+

Merlin took a few steps towards the water. Already, the boundary between the two realms was becoming stronger and soon he would have to walk through the mist and make his journey back to the world.

"I wish I could go with you."

Arthur's body was warm and solid next to his as they stood looking out over the water and the fog. Merlin put one arm around him and rubbed between Arthur's shoulder blades. This was another one of those moments he was going to want to remember forever.

"It won't feel like waiting. It'll… it'll be like when Gaius used send me to the next village to get supplies or out into the woods to gather herbs and roots. It'll be just like that."

Arthur didn't move into his touch, but he didn't move out of it, either. "I used to hate when you did that."

"Because you couldn't manage to get yourself out of bed and dressed one your own for one morning."

"_No. _ Because I was convinced you'd get yourself killed in the most idiotic way possible."

"Imagine I'll only be away for a couple days, and I will be. That's all."

Arthur nodded, the motion one of understanding and resignation, and turned, uncrossing his arms so he could put them around Merlin. The sad, serious look in his eyes betrayed a lifetime's worth of knowledge and experience, but there was something else there, a trace of innocence beneath the sadness.

"Just a couple days," he murmured, his forehead pressed to Merlin's and his breath soft against Merlin's lips. They kissed and kissed again, quiet and gentle, and the fog crept closer.

"That's all. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"I will."

Merlin shook his head and pressed his mouth to Arthur's. "Stubborn prat." And then they kissed once more, the past and the future spinning between the two of them, and Merlin felt himself smile against Arthur's lips before he pulled away. "You'll just look up and I'll be there, waiting for you."

"What about for you? How long…?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'll tell you when I find out."

His eyes still closed and his fingertips still touching Arthur's, just barely touching them, Merlin turned and walked away.

He'd be young again the next time he met Arthur. Truly young, at least in body, and he and Arthur would have another whole lifetime before them to live out together. They'd been lovers once, in every sense of the word, as they would be again someday. And it was worth it for that, for the knowledge and hope bound up in the promises he'd made to Arthur last night and this morning, to take the first few steps into the future.


End file.
